Victors At Last
by thg-fire
Summary: Clato fanfic. Clove's POV. Cato and Clove won the 74th Hunger Games. Read and Review please!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: _Clato fanfic. Clove is telling the story. Cato and Clove won the 74th Hunger Games. This takes place after the cameras died down and they both regained some privacy. They did not go on the victory tour yet._**

**___Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins wrote the trilogy._**

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I walk over to his house as soon as I wake up. I need to talk to him. I open his front door, which I find unlocked. "Cato?" I ask the empty living room.

"In the kitchen!" I hear him yell. He lives alone now. His parents are too busy with his brothers. Even now, when Cato is a victor like them, his parents still ignore him.

I walk over to the table in the kitchen where he is sitting down. By the look on his face, I can see he's shocked to see me here. "Hey. How are you doing?" I ask him, deciding this is a safe way to start the conversation.

"I'm… fine." I meet his eyes and know that he's not. "Any nightmares last night?"

"Yup." I sigh. "They never go away. Did you have any?"

"Of course." he says, as if it would be a crime not to have any.

"Cato…" I begin. "Are you sure you're fine?"

He shrugs and gets up, heading toward his refrigerator. "I guess I am."

I watch him as he opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle. "What's that?" I ask him curiously.

"This, Clove, is something to help with the nightmares." He pulls off the cap and takes a sip. By the strong fumes I know its alcohol.

"Cato!" I yell.

He looks at me like I said the stupidest thing ever. "What?" He slams the bottle on the table, gripping it hard.

"When did you start drinking?" I demand.

"Oh, about when we got home from the Games. Just couldn't deal with the nightmares. I needed some type of relief." He picks up the bottle to take another swig. "Better than turning to morphling."

"Not by much." I mutter under my breath. "Cato, put the bottle down."

He looks at me crazy. "Clove, I- I can't." He holds the bottle tightly to his chest. Our eyes lock on each others and he speaks again. "I love you, Clove."

My eyes widen is shock. "No." I say. I refuse to believe it. "You're… You're just drunk."

"Clove! You saw me take one sip! You don't get drunk from one sip!"

I know he's right, but I still refuse to believe it. "Since when?"

He sighs. "For a while now. Actually years. Ever since that first day of training school."

I think back to that day. We were only eight years old then. I remember them separating us into two groups, boys and girls. The boys went first, showing the trainers their skills. I saw Cato and he performed flawlessly.

Then it was time for the girls. Girl after girl went and they could barely lift a sword or spear. None of them could throw a knife and get it to stick.

It was my turn and I went straight to the knifes. I picked the most lethal looking one there and I felt more than the trainer's eyes watching me. I glanced around and spotted Cato and his crew staring at me, laughing. I ignored them and walked in front of a dummy, a good fifty feet away. I relaxed and threw the knife, right into the dummy's heart. I smirked and heard the boys stop laughing.

"So." I finally say. "All the girls were always all over you. You could have any one of them, especially now that you're a victor. So what made me so different?"

I notice he put the bottle on the table and is sitting down. He's leaning against a cabinet with his knee's to his chest, his hands covering his face. He removes his hands to speak. "Because, Clove." His eyes meet mine. "_You_ were different."

"I- I don't know what you mean."

He forces a little laugh. "I can't explain it, Clove. There's just something about you that makes me want more."

"Oh." is all I can force out. He stands up and picks up the bottle, ready to start drinking. "Cato. Give me the bottle." He hesitates, but hands it over. "All of them." I insist.

"What? No! Clove, don't- don't do this to me." He begins to shake as he begs me.

"Fine," I say as I slam the bottle down on the table, just as he did minutes ago. "I'll just leave then."

He twitches frantically and rushes over to the refrigerator. As he opens it up, he starts taking out bottle after bottle after bottle. When he's done, there's over twenty bottles on the table. I stare at them in shock.

He's a little out of breath. "There. That's all of them. Now, please. Don't leave." He slides down the fridge and stares at the open bottle desperately.

It takes me a moment to answer. "Take it," I say. "Take all of them. I hate you for making me do that to you." he's shaking and twitching and I hate it.

"You- You hate me?" His eyes trail from the bottle to me.

"No." I say in a low voice.

He stands up and picks up the open bottle. I'm prepared for him to start drinking. I'm not prepared when he walks over to the sink and dumps out the alcohol. One by one he empties the bottles, biting his lip as he goes.

"Why'd you do that?"

"It had to happen, anyway." Is all he says. He turns and our eyes meet again. "I love you, Clove."

"Really?" I ask. "You weren't lying?"

"I wasn't lying."

It's all I can do not to fling myself into his arms. Instead I calmly walk over to him and give him a reassuring hug. "Thank you." I hear him whisper. "I needed that."

"I know." I whisper back.

"Clove," he starts. I feel him pull away slightly and lock his gaze with mine. "Why haven't you said anything?"

"What are you talking about? I was talking this whole time."

"I mean, I just told you that I love you, yet you never told me how you feel. All you said is that you don't hate me."

I sigh. "That's not enough, is it?"

"No." He tells me.

"I'm sorry, okay?" I pull away completely and look down at my shoes. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

"For being the way I am!" I yell back.

"What are you talking about, Clove?" He asks me, a little bit more calm.

I stare at him with disbelief. I shake my head, how could he know, anyway? I decide to tell him, to finally let my guard down and open up. "Cato…" I begin. "I spent my whole life building a wall between myself and the people around me. I went to school, did my work, trained, and went home. There was no time for friends… or boyfriends. I learned how not show my emotions. Don't you see? All these years I blocked people like you out for a reason. If I ever became close to someone and they got reaped, then… then I don't know what I would do."

I see him open his mouth to talk, but I stop him. I'm no where near done. "But it's more than just the reaping. I have a problem trusting people. I'm afraid of getting close to somebody and having them ripped away from me with out warning." I pause, catching my breath. "And now look at where we are. Some how, some way, we both made it out of that arena alive and unscathed. You're standing right in front of me and telling me that you love me. Now, tell me, Cato. What would you like me to do?" I'm yelling now, my anger bubbling up inside of me.

Actually, I don't know why I'm yelling. I'm not mad at him. I'm not mad at all. Cato waits a few seconds, waiting to see if I'm done. I look at him for a response. "Clove, I- I don't know what to say."

I let a sigh escape me. "Of course you don't. What can you say, really? That you feel sorry for me? That's not going to change anything…"

"I know, I know. Then let's start off slow. How about friends first? Then we can work from there."

"You mean it?" I ask. I guess it's a good place to start.

"I mean it." he says. "There's a lot I don't know about you, Clove. But I'm willing to take the time to get to know you."

That's a first. Nobody ever wanted to be my friend. My parents don't even know much about me. There's something different about Cato, I think. It's as if I _want _to open up to him. I know I must pace myself. Even though he proved to me that he must really love me, I'm not ready to let my guard completely down.

I realize there has been silence for a while and Cato speaks up. "So, where should we start?"

As I shrug, I sniff the air. The alcohol fumes are still strong. "Maybe we should clean up this mess. The smell is giving me a headache."

Cato clenches his hand into a fist and bites his lip. "Okay." he mumbles.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_**Sorry I haven't updated this story in a while, I just couldn't think of what should be next. Please review with ideas of what you would like to happen. Thanks :)**_

_********____Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins wrote the trilogy._

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I walk over to the sink and squeeze nearly half a bottle of soap all over it. The alcohol would have stained the pearly white sink if it wasn't cleaned soon. I grab a sponge and run the faucet, allowing a stream on warm water flow into the sink. I start to scrub the sides and bottom after getting wetting the soap and putting some soap on it.

I hear Cato's muffled voice behind me, "Need some help?"

I shake my head. "No thanks."

Even though I can't see him, I know he must be smirking or grinning because his arms go around my waist and his chin is on my shoulder. He rubs my stomach lightly, bringing a small smile to my lips. These sensations are all so new to me, but I would be lying if I said I didn't like them.

Cato's breath smells a little like alcohol, but I try to ignore it. "You'll be a perfect mother one day, Clove," he whispers.

This catches me off guard. Mother? Does he want kids? I have to stop what I'm doing and turn around. "What do you mean_ mother_?"

He must know that bothered me because he stutters, "Uh... I- I just meant, you know, in the future... maybe..."

I stare up at him then look down in embarrassment. It was a harmless comment, a compliment even. I was just being too sensitive.

Cato lifts my chin up. My eyes trail to his lips, which are fixed with a grin, then to his eyes. I half smile as he speaks, "Loosen up, Clove. Have some fun."

"Fun? Like what?" I take the sponge that's in my hand, full of water and soap and squeeze it out into his hair, laughing. "Like that?"

He frowns, then runs his fingers through his hair, chuckling. "You'll pay for that, Clove."

I pretend to be scared by shaking my head, frowning, and making my eyes become glassy. "Oh, no! No, please, Cato!" He's still laughing a little when he picks me up by my hips and lifts me into the sink. I shriek as my pants become soaking wet. "Cato!" I hop out of the sink and he's already running into the living room. I chase after him, laughing. "Get back here!"

"No!" I hear him shout. "You'll kill me!"

We're both laughing when he picks me up again by the waist, then cradles me like a baby. "Damn, Clove. Eat some meat, will you?"

I roll my eyes. My arms wrap around his neck, my lips forming a smile. I find myself gazing into a light pool of blue, known as Cato's eyes. A rush of adrenaline mixed with intoxication of pure excitement pumps through my body. My feelings for Cato are stimulating and my senses are telling me to kiss him. The word _kiss_ bounces around my head as I try to sort my thoughts. There's no use. My desire to kiss Cato is growing stronger and soon I won't be able to disregard the thoughts.

Cato's looking down at me, as if he's lost in a trance, yet fully aware of his actions. I was so consumed in my thoughts that I haven't realized that my feet were on the ground, Cato's arms are around me, and our foreheads are pressed together. _Kiss him,_ my heart tells me. I know that this must be the right thing to do.

I move my right hand to his cheek and slowly lean in. Cato is leaning in too, wanting this kiss just as much as I do. I'm taken back by how passionate our first kiss is. So many feelings are swelling up inside of me at once. I push my lips a little more onto his and I can feel him pulling me closer.

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**A/N: _Sorry this Chapter is a little shorter, I promise the next one will be longer. Please Review. Thanks (:_**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: _The last chapter was kind of a cliffhanger, ending in their kiss. I'm trying to use new words instead over overused, dull ones. Do you think it's making the story better or worse? Please review. Thanks :)_**

**__****___Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins wrote the trilogy._**

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I'm the first to break the kiss, all the feelings abruptly flushed from my body. If it wasn't for Cato's strong, solid arms around me, I would be running away right now. Though, I don't think I would run if I had the opportunity; my feelings for Cato are too overpowering.

For a while, we stand in silence, gazing into our each others eyes. "I love you, Clove," I hear Cato say softly.

My heart sinks to my stomach. I repeat the words _I love __you_ in my head. I do have immense feelings towards Cato, but I'm not sure I can say I love you and entirely mean it. He's waiting for a response, I know he is. But what can I say, really? I like you a lot, Cato, but I don't love you?

I can't keep this romance thing going on any longer; instead I drop it. I shuffle backwards somewhat and look awkwardly at Cato. "I- I'm sorry," I manage to squeal out. My throat feels dry and my voice is cracking; I can barely speak.

Cato drops his arms from around me and I automatically walk into the kitchen. After pouring myself a glass of water and gulping it down, I sit down in a chair and sigh. _What did I just do?_, I ask myself.

I hear footsteps coming into the kitchen. "Cato..." I look at him and he doesn't reply. Maybe he's waiting for me to continue because all he does is stay silent and sit down next to me.

I open my mouth to continue speaking, but Cato cuts me off. "Clove, I get it. You don't love me." He doesn't look disappointed, sad, or upset. Cato keeps a straight face, just like he always does.

Why am I not feeling relieved? Cato understands how I feel towards him, yet all I feel right now is guilt. Perhaps he thinks I don't even like him.

No. He can't think that. Besides, _I_ was the first one to lean in for a kiss, not him.

I can't shake this feeling of remorse. I need to straighten things out. "Cato, I like you. A lot. But I just don't want to say I love you unless I..." My voice trails of, but I quickly finish the sentence, "Unless I mean it with all my heart."

He nods, "I know what you mean, Clove. I already said I understand how you feel."

Suddenly I become slightly agitated, "What the hell, Cato?" My voice is raised, but not quite yelling. Cato looks at me confused and now I'm yelling, "You tell me you want to be friends and then you say you love me?"

Cato yells back, "You're the one who kissed me!"

I pause, thinking of my next remark. When I speak, my tone is practically a whisper, "Whatever, Cato."

After glancing at Cato, I stand up and walk to the door. Cato comes after me saying, "Don't leave. Please, Clove."

"Why shouldn't I?," I ask him.

He sighs before stating, "I just... I just don't want you to go."

I'm a foot away from the front door when I spin around on my heels and nearly fall into Cato. I didn't realize how close he was behind me.

I stare into his shiny, blue eyes before giving a shake of my head and walking out of his house. I make sure to slam the door loud enough and with all my might.

Running as swiftly as I can, I make it to my house in seconds. It was only around noon and yet I feel like curling up in my bed for the night. After I walk into my house, which is vacant as always, I make my way into my kitchen. I need to force myself to eat at least a sandwich. Soon I have filled my stomach to the fullest, allowed myself an hour nap, and watched the entire recap of our Games.

It's late at night when the phone rings. It has to be Cato calling; who else has a phone that would actually call me? When I walk to answer the phone, it stops ringing. _They must have hung up,_ I think.

On my way upstairs for bed, I stop to look out the window. A few drops of rain have fallen from the sky followed by dozens more. It looks like a thunderstorm is approaching. "Great," I mutter to myself.

I lay down on my bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. My eyes are open, staring blankly at the wall across from me. I listen to the rain forcefully hit the window, usually proceeded by a boom of thunder and a flash of lightning. _Boom,_ another vibration of thunder that leaves my ears ringing, another tribute dead in these Games that only exist in my own mind...

An hour or two must have gone by when I hear knocking at the front door downstairs. It was surely past midnight, so who would come so late _and_ in the middle of a thunderstorm?

I groan as I get out of my bed and grab a knife from my drawer. It takes me a few minutes to realize what I have grasped in my hand. Sometimes I forget I'm out of the Games.

Another round of knocking comes from beyond the front door.

I leave the knife on top of my dresser and walk downstairs. I pause in front of the door. Slowly, I reach for the doorknob. As I swing the door open, I let out a slight gasp. I never thought I would see this scene.

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**A/N: The next chapter is coming soon! I'm writing it now. Please review! Thanks (:**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:_ Have fun reading, I think this is an interesting chapter (: R&R please._**

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An avox; I feel like an avox. I stand there, frozen, unable to move or speak, staring into his eyes as he stares back into mine.

"Clove," a muffled voice utters under the rain, thunder, and lightning.

I shake my head, desperately hoping this was a hallucination, a trick of the mind.

The same voice repeats my name, "Clove." You could hear the despair in his voice.

Still, I am unable to express any words, motions, or thoughts. Another lightning streaks through the sky, preceded by a reverberation of thunder.

This boy stares at me while I stare back, extending the speechlessness a little longer. At last, I murmur a simple question, "Why?"

"Why?" He scoffs, mockingly. "Don't you remember what he had? What we _have_?"

"That was a long time ago," I retort.

It's Bently, my _ex-_boyfriend; we used to date when we first started highschool. He finished school this year, being eighteen like myself and Cato. Bently is actually built like Cato; nearly as tall as him, nearly as strong as him. He has hazel eyes and golden blonde hair, streaked with the perfect amount of a light chestnut color.

Bently and I were only dating for a year when he shattered my heart.

After training, I would usually stop by Bently's house to hangout for a while. As I was entering his house, I saw him making out with another girl. Her name was Anna. Anna was a beautiful girl, her champagne colored hair complimented her crystal clear sapphire eyes. She was taller than me, yet needed a few inches to be as tall as someone as Bently.

I hated her; she would always tease me in school for everything and anything. _"Clove you're too short." "Clove you're so ugly." "Clove no one loves you." "Clove, I really hope you get reaped this year."_

So when Bently finally asked me out, that was the breaking point for her; she had a _major _crush on him. Anna tried so hard to flirt with him, but he never noticed her, I was the only girl in his eyes. I guess all that flirting paid off, though, because there she was, kissing my boyfriend.

"I hope it was worth it," I had said. By the time Bently realized my voice, I was already out the door.

This is one of the reasons why I don't trust people; I'm afraid they will break me even more than I already am. _I may be broken, but I'm also fixable,_ I think to myself.

Bently's voice breaks my train of thought. He responds, "That didn't mean I stopped loving you."

"You never loved me," I quickly spit the words out to him. "Besides, I'm with Cato now," I add.

"Cato?" Bently mocks me. "That bastard is, well, a bastard. He stole you from me and now I'm just taking back what's mine."

As soon as the words shoot out of his mouth, I become furious. No, more than furious; inflamed with vexed feelings. I am sure as hell _not_ Bently's. Why would he think such an idiotic, foolish, senseless thing?! If I had brought that knife with me, it would have been in Bently's heart without a second thought.

I put on the most vicious face I have and raise my voice to nearly a scream. "You son of a bitch! I am _NOT _yours! Get over it you, fucktard!" I project my voice to the fullest at when I scream, "Leave me alone! Now!"

Bently's face looks calm and collected. His voice is harmless, "Oh, come on, babe. We can work this out."

"Don't call me 'babe'," I try to say without yelling, however I raise my voice towards the end.

I must have shrieked louder than I thought because Cato is outside of his looking around. "What the hell..." Cato says to no one in particular.

"This is your new 'boyfriend'," Bently asks me with a slight chuckle.

Oh, right, I said Cato and I were dating. I nod before he has time to question me and take off running to Cato. The cold rain feels rejuvenating on my now flushed red skin.

"Cato! Oh, Cato, thank goodness you're here!" I call out to him. He gives me a confused look, but I jump into his arms before he can reply. I mutter against his chest, "Just go with it; I'll explain later."

I look up to see Cato giving me a minor nod and holds me in his arms. "What's wrong, Clove, darling?" He questions me.

Inside, I want to smack Cato for calling me 'darling', but there's nothing I can do about that now. "It's Bently," I say, looking up at Cato innocently. "He's harassing me and I want him to leave, but he won't"

With Cato and Bently being nearly the same in size, a fight between them should be interesting. I want to say Cato would win, but Bently's pretty strong too. It would be a close call on the winner.

Cato frowns and glares at Bently. "Don't fight, please, Cato," I whisper to him. I already know he wants to; I can see it in his eyes. Despite Cato's thoughts, I refuse to let this happen.

"I'll fight back if he starts something," Cato whispers back.

I frown because knowing Cato, he would probably provoke Bently until he fights. I place my hands firmly on Cato's chest so he knows I'm serious. "Don't," I demand.

Cato looks down at me and sighs. "Fine," he agrees. After he glares at Bently, Cato calmly walks over to him, with me following close behind.

"Look, man," Cato starts. "Why don't you just go home? It's the middle of the night with a storm above us."

"Scared, are we?" Bently challenges with an edge.

"Of you?" Cato asks in return, before answering himself. "No."

"Well, you should be," Bently remarks.

I gasp as Bently throws the first punch. Cato deflects this, yet staggers backward.

"No, no, no!" I yell at them. To assure that no more punches are to be thrown, I step in-between them. "You boys stop! Now!"

The noise must become loud because Brutus, a former victor and our mentor, comes outside. "Hey!" he shouts. "No late night partying, crazy kids!"

"No sir," Cato replies. "Just teaching this jackass a lesson."

With those words, Bently pushes me aside and gives Cato a shove. I fall to the ground with a thud. Brutus runs over and some how pulls the two boys off of each other. He pushes both of them to the ground. "Stay," he commands.

After Brutus helps me up, he turns to Bently. "Just go home, kid," he says.

Bently nods and scurries out of Victor's Village.

"As for you, young man," Brutus says, pointing a finger accusingly at Cato. "That is no way a victor should be acting."

"But, I," Cato attempts to protest as he stands up.

"Shut it," Brutus comments before walking back to his house.

Cato groans as looks at me. "We'll discuss this tomorrow," he assures.

Just as he's starting to walk away, I catch his hand. He looks at me questionably. "Can you, maybe, stay for the night?" I ask as innocently as I can. I also make sure to show my conflicting emotions in my eyes; hurt, sadness, anger, fear.

He nods, "Sure."

I nod back and keep his hand locked in mine as we walk together inside my house.

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**A/N: _The man behind the door has been revealed; it's Bently not Cato. Please review if you think that plot twist was good or not._**

**_This was defiantly a fun chapter to write! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. However, this chapter may be on the shorter side, which I apologize for._**

**_Anyway, I'm debating if I should write the next chapter where it continues this night and into the morning or if it should be the night the Quell is announced. Please review so I know what the next chapter should be like! I would like to write it as soon as possible, but I need your take on it. Thanks (:_**

**_Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins wrote the trilogy._**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: _I'm soooo sorry I haven't updated this story! I've been busy every day of the week! Plus, I wasn't getting that much reviews so I lost inspiration. I reaaaaally hope this chapter was worth the wait! I'll try to make it longer for you guys!_**

**_Please review! Thanks :)_**

**_Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins wrote the trilogy._**

* * *

"So, we're dating now, huh?" Cato asks with sarcasm as we both walk up the stairs.

I roll my eyes. "I just wanted Bently to leave, okay?"

"Sure," he says as we reach the top of the stairs. "You never did tell me what that whole situation was about," he adds.

I sigh. I don't want to tell Cato about Bently's relationship with me. It's too painful even thinking about it.

My thoughts come to an end as a thunder roars through the house. I make somewhat of a strangled gasp and tightly wrap my arms around Cato's abdomen, nestling my head on his chest. Cato hesitates for a moment, then slowly secures his arms around me.

"Scared of a little thunder, Clove?" Cato muses.

"No," I croak out.

Only Cato doesn't understand. To me, in my mind, it's not just thunder. It's another tribute dead in the Games.

I squeeze my eyes shut, as flashes of dead tributes flicker across my vision. My hands and chest are splattered in their blood, a triumphant smirk smeared across my lips.

I already know these visions are just the beginning; I'm sure to see more tonight in my sleep.

Cato and I are still holding onto each other at the top of the stairs. After a moment of silence, he asks, "You alright?"

I nod in response and pull away. "I'm fine."

Without another word, I slip away into my bedroom and strip of my clothing. Since Cato was here, I pull on an over sized tee shirt then rip it off in frustration. _How the hell did _this_ get here?!_ It was Bently's old tee. It must have got mixed up in the boxes while I was packing.

Cato knocks on the door. "I'm coming in."

"Cover your eyes," I say. "I'm not dressed yet."

Cato chuckles and a shirt comes flying towards me. "Just put that on. We don't have all night."

I groan as I tug the shirt on over my head. The shirt is rather a dress on me, reaching down to mid-thigh. Whatever, it'll have to do.

Cato enters the room and tries to hide his laugh.

"Oh shut up!" I shrill.

He shakes his head, " I didn't say anything."

As Cato fumbles with his belt buckle, I take the time to _really_ look at him. Cato's faded blonde hair is smeared with a lighter brown color and just by a looking at it, you want to run your fingers through it, soaking in it's softness. His face is flawless; there's not one crease or blemish. Plus his faint golden tanned skin compliments his hair perfectly. And don't even get me started on his royal, sapphire eyes. I wouldn't mind gazing at them all day...

I avert my gawking down to his chiseled, glorious body. Cato is so muscular and so sexy. I never acted like I was attracted to him, but I was. I mean, who wasn't? How could anyone dislike all eight of his abs and his biceps?

I didn't want Cato to see me gaping over his body, so I looked someplace else before he noticed. Or, I thought he didn't notice...

"Clove, I never thought you noticed me like that..." I almost want to laugh at how serious and innocent he sounds.

Surely, he knows that _everyone_ stares at his body at one point or another, so why was I different? "I don't. I mean, not until right now," I told him truthfully._  
_

"Oh," is all he says. Then he asks, "Want me to stay with you?"

I look at him and nod before climbing into my bed and laying down under the covers. He does the same, but lays on his side, looking at me. I also turn to my side and gaze back into his eyes.

He smiles, "This is nice."

"Yeah," I agree.

Silence has taken over and we both are lost in thought. I wonder what Cato thinks about. It could be anything, really... Does he think about me? Or what I think about? Probably not...

Lightning illuminates the room followed by a roar of thunder causing my heart beat to quicken. Cato senses this and puts an arm around, pulling me closer. His body heat radiates off of his skin and onto me. I like it; it's something I could get used to. Cato presses his lips to the top of my head and whispers comforting words to me.

"It's okay, Clove. You're safe. I won't let anything harm you."

The silly thing is, I _actually _believe him. I believe that I am safe and that he will protect me. I smile at the thought.

Out of giddiness, I put my arm around his waist, soaking up his warmth. He smirks and I prepare myself for a sly comment, but instead, my ears hear this. "You know something, Clove? You act so tough and murderous and brutal, but I think you're just scared."

"Scared?" I scoff. "Of what, exactly?"

He simply replies, "Death."

This caught me off guard. I wasn't scared of _dying_ or how I would die. Maybe I was scared of death and what came after it. But, who wasn't? No one wants to just stop living. That doesn't mean I want to live forever...

Somehow this got me thinking about the Capitol. It's so cruel; the Hunger Games, I mean. Snow is just rubbing his power and authority in all of our faces. And there's nothing we could do about it.

_Rebellion,_ I think. We could rebel, which is a choice, but there are flaws to that plan. It failed before, so it most likely won't work again. Plus, this is District Two, which is the Capitol's lap dog. And we would need _all _the District's help. It seems like such an impossible task, yet I know it's possible. But _how _is the question...

"What if we rebelled?" I blurt out. What the fuck did I just ask?!

"Rebel?" He chuckles. "Against death? Good luck with that, Clove."

"That's not what I meant," I stupidly continue.

"Oh?" Cato turns and looks at me, raising an eyebrow. "Then what exactly did you mean?"

This is it. Should I tell him what I really think? I rule against this. "Nothing, Cato. I don't know. I'm just tired, okay?"

"And grumpy," he mutters. I heard him, but just ignore the remark. "Fine, let's try and get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

He answers, "Victory Tour."

Shit! How could I forget that? I sigh and turn my back to him, but that doesn't stop him from placing one arm behind my neck and the other around my waist. I allow it because I'm enjoying it, believe it or not.

Sleep finds me quicker than I find it. I want to stay in this moment, but I know I can't.

* * *

_"Yeah, well we killed her. And now, we're going to kill you." My knife digs deeper against fire girl's skin and crimson blood pours out. I was about to extinguish her fire when my body is yanked up into the air._ _"Cato!" I instinctively call out._

_"You said her name!" A masculine voice yells._

_"N- No!"_

_"I heard you! You kill her?"_

_"No! I-" I pause. "Cato! Cato! Catooo!" I scream out._

_Where the fuck was he?! He told me if there was any problems, he would be right there. _This _is a problem!_

_Finally I see Cato running faster than he ever has towards us. "Clove!" He yells. "I'm coming, Clove!"_

_He's inches from me when the ground shakes and a whole mile is placed in-between us. This happens several times. Every time Cato is right there, he gets pushed back. And every time he gets pushed back, Thresh tights his grip around me._

_My chest tightens to the point where I'm grasping for air. Tears are spilling down my face and I croak out Cato's name, but nothing fills the air. Just the sound of Cato's footsteps reaching closer, then farther away._

_Closer, farther. Closer, farther. Closer, farther..._

* * *

"Aww!"_  
_

"So cute!"

"Wake up, love birds!"

Cato shoots up, mumbling, "What the hell? It's six in the morning!"

"Oh, no, silly! You go back to bed! It's Clove we need awake," shrills one of my prep team members.

I pretend I'm still sleeping, but Cato starts shaking me so I groan and sit up. "Why does he get to sleep in?" I whined.

"Because he doesn't needed to be prepped like you do," our escort says.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll get up too," Cato says trying to be nice, but I just find it annoying.

"Whatever," I mumble as I get out of bed and get pulled by my prep team into the bathroom. I groan again; this was not how I wanted to spend my morning.

* * *

**A/N: _I hope it's not that terrible..._**

**_Please review on what you thought! _****_Thanks :)_**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: ****_I'm trying my best to update as soon as possible, but it's been hard to even reach a computer! But, at last, here is the latest chapter for this story. I really hope you enjoy it!_**

**_Please review! Thanks :)_**

**_Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins wrote the trilogy._**

* * *

Train. District One. Ceremony. Dinner. Party. Train. District Three. Ceremony. Dinner. Party. Train. District Four. Ceremony. Dinner. Party.

All these days are the same. Saying the same speech of thanks and honor. Eating different food that all tastes the same to me. Exchanging hellos with strangers. Dancing with Cato, which is quite agonizing since neither of us actually knows how to dance. Then back on the train until tomorrow when we have to do it all over again.

Cato and I don't spend much time together unless we have to. We're not dating, yet I think we'll be forced to. We weren't the ones who encouraged the rule change in the Games, but we have to give them a reason why they should keep it.

After the ceremony and dinner in District Four, it's time for the party. Sometimes we see previous victors, but all we saw so far was the brother and sister from District One, Gloss and Cashmere. Even then, they only came to speak with our mentors, Brutus and Enobara. But, tonight, Finnick Odair and some girl, who clings tightly to Finnick's arm, walk over to say hello. Annie Cresta, I think her name is.

"You must be Cato and Clove," Finnick says neutrally.

I just nod since I prefer not talking. Besides, Cato almost always answers for the both of us. "Yeah, we are. And you must be Finnick and Annie," he says in the same tone of voice Finnick used. "I've heard so much about you."

"Really?" Finnick asks. "Like what?"

Cato shrugs, "The usual. Nothing special."

"Ah, I see," Finnick says. It seems he had heard this all before.

I hold onto Cato's hand tightly as the two boys— or rather, men— continue speaking. Annie doesn't even seem to be here. Well, physically she is. But mentally, she seems to be in whole different world. I guess the Games did that to her.

"Well?" I hear Finnick ask.

Cato nudges me. "Huh?" I ask, looking at Cato then Finnick.

"I asked if you enjoyed your Games. Seems like you were having fun." Finnick repeats. He doesn't sound impatient; I guess that's because he's used to it since he deals with Annie all the time.

"Oh. Sure," I finally say.

There's some silence until Cato speaks up, "I'm going to get a drink; be right back."

"But, Cato..." I begin to object, but he's already walking through the crowd of people towards the drinks.

I don't have to worry too much about Cato's old drinking habits since he seems to be able to control himself. At first he was nervous, but he got over it. I still suggested he doesn't have any at all. Instead, drink water. He agreed, but I can tell he's not too happy about it.

"So," Finnick says, interrupting my thoughts. I turn to look at him. He continues, "How are you liking the districts so far?"

Why am I finding him so annoying? I just want to go home. And that's exactly what I say, "They're alright, but I rather just go home."

He replies, "You'll be home soon."

I don't respond. There's something about Finnick that he makes it seem like we've been friends forever. Like he's my best friend and will always be there for me. I know it's not true, but the feeling is sort of nice.

Cato returns with no drink, just a weird expression plastered across his face.

"Something wrong?" I ask.

He tells me, "I'll tell you later."

After about 1AM, we finally board the train to go on to the next district, District Five. I'm curious as to what Cato has to tell me, but he never does. He just goes into his room and doesn't come out. I do the same, figuring if it was that important, he'd tell me.

I plop down on my temporary bed, closing my eyes. I wasn't too tired, but I needed some time to rest. As my thoughts start to relax, I recall some childhood memories, times when I was actually happy.

_"Those who put up a fight, who were as strong as they could be. Those who should still be with us, but instead only remain in memory," _my father said, reciting one of his favorite poems. He would always read me some from a book, which held various poems he had written down. He continued,_ "And we know it's never simple; never easy to pull the trigger that will end an innocent life. But we do it anyway because we were born to die and raised to kill."_

I had looked up to my father so much when I was a child. We had a special connection; we laughed, smiled, and cried together. But that bliss didn't last too long. When my older brother was reaped and murdered in the Games, my father broke. He turned to liquor to comfort his problems. He ignored my existence for a while, which made me question just how important I really was to him.

After a year or so of this mourning, my father changed dramatically. He started training me to use a knife and by the age of seven, I was already greatly skilled. Soon after, he signed me up for the training academy, pushing me to train harder and longer. For years, that consumed my life. Every day after school I would be in that gym, training, until midnight. And every weekend I would be there, from sun rise, to sun set.

My mother never questioned my father's way. Perhaps she was just scared. I don't know, and I don't care. They're both worthless in my eyes.

Finally, when I was eighteen, I volunteered for the 74th Hunger Games. Cato was my district partner, who also volunteered. Even if he was much larger than me, we were still both a lethal looking pair.

The Games are still vivid in my memory today; I could never forget that experience.

These thoughts make me remember something Cato mumbled to me while we were still in the arena. The trumpets were blowing in our victory when Cato had said to me with a laugh, "_And that moment you never forget; the one that gets embedded into your thoughts forever. The finial kill. When a tribute becomes a victor."_

It was supposed to be some type of joke, since we both wanted this from a young age. But another memory pops up. What he _did_ when he said that.

Cato had pulled me into his arms and I joyfully hugged back. We were finally going home. After Cato had whispered that remark to me, his lips were still dangerously close to my ear. He wanted me to hear every word; and I did.

He gave me such a quick kiss on the temple, no one would notice. Then he had said, _"And I hope you don't forget this moment."_

* * *

**A/N: _Okay, well that sucked. Grrrrrrrrrr, I really hope the next chapter turns out better._**_  
_

**_Please review and tell me what you think!_**

**_Thanks! (:_**


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